


Words Can't Say What Love Can Do

by QueenOfNewOrleans22



Category: Mötley Crüe, The Dirt (2019)
Genre: Angst, Drug Addiction, Drug Withdrawal, Fluff, M/M, Self-Harm
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-24
Updated: 2020-11-24
Packaged: 2021-03-09 18:55:50
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,640
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27691031
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/QueenOfNewOrleans22/pseuds/QueenOfNewOrleans22
Summary: "He's not doing good." Tommy said.Vince looked up from his book. "Are you surprised?" He said, flipping the page, even though he hadn't read the last one, nor the one previous.From where he stood, Mick felt like he was the last line of defense. "What does that mean?" He asked. "Because he never does good on a regular day, much less today." Mick took a sip of his coffee, but it was lukewarm and the milk tasted sour, so he tossed it down the drain and watched as it swirled down, down, down.
Relationships: Mick Mars/Nikki Sixx
Comments: 5
Kudos: 16





	Words Can't Say What Love Can Do

"He's not doing good." Tommy said. 

Vince looked up from his book. "Are you surprised?" He said, flipping the page, even though he hadn't read the last one, nor the one previous. 

From where he stood, Mick felt like he was the last line of defense. "What does that mean?" He asked. "Because he mever does good on a regular day, much less today." Mick took a sip of his coffee, but it was lukewarm and the milk tasted sour, so he tossed it down the drain and watched as it swirled down, down, down.

Tommy's eyes danced between the closed bathroom door, shut and locked, and then back up at Mick. He looked terrified. "He's hallucinating."

"Fuck." Mick grit his teeth, and then looked at the door again. "About what?" 

Tossing aside his book, Vince looked up at the ceiling. "Earlier, he was talking to his mom - who was really the wall, by the way - and talking about some weird shit, and then he stopped and got all quiet for awhile. Then, he got all convinced that some old dealer friend from Illinois was coming to give him heroine, and that you would get angry at him. After that, he thought that the phone was a siren, and tossed it off the balcony." 

"A siren?" Mick repeated, confused. 

"Yeah." Tommy motioned in the air. "A siren. Like - like, a mermaid." 

Mick nodded, and then he sighed. "And since then?" He asked, weary of the response that would come, knowing that it wouldn't be good. It never was, and he needed to stop hoping that it would be. 

"He went quiet." Vince was restless, and his leg was going up and down repeatedly, tapping onto the wood flooring below. "About five minutes ago, I went to go make sure he was okay, and he told me that he was, um, safe there, and that nobody could get to him, as long as he stayed in that bathtub. He won't let me in, says that he doesn't trust himself." He shrugged, but it was in deliberate nonchalance, and his eyes were alight with concern.

"Jesus Christ." Mick rubbed the bridge of his nose, exhausted beyond belief, and wondering why he had been chosen for this godforsaken band, stuck with three druggies, not that he could judge, really, and one of them was his lover. 

Tommy played with the frayed hem of his shirt. "I'm worried that he'll do something to himself." He suddenly said, uncharacteristically quiet. "Something really bad." 

"I know." Mick had dealt with that worry several times in the several years that he'd known Nikki, as both friends and lovers. It drove him crazy, dealing with the knowledge that every time he left the house, Nikki could do something that couldn't be undone. "Shit. I'm going in." Mick grabbed his wallet, his keys, and set them down on the table. 

Vince straightened up. "Are you sure?" He asked. 

Nodding, Mick also took off his belt, and then his shoes. "I don't want him being in there, alone." He said, slipping his ring off of his finger and placing it right next to the keys. "I think it'll help him. If it doesn't, then at least I can keep an eye on him."

"I don't know if he'll let you in there." Tommy said. 

Mick shrugged. "I know how to pick a lock." He replied with forced calmness. 

There wasn't much that could be done, anyways, besides just be there for Nikki while his eyes saw things that weren't really there. Mick made sure that he didn't have anything on his body that Nikki could use to hurt either one of them, which would be disastrous, really. 

In all truth, there wasn't much that could be done for Nikki while he was trying to quit the very things that had kept him sane for all of these years, but Mick was utterly determined to keep him from falling apart. 

Walking over, Mick sighed, and prepared himself, wondering what he was going to find behind that door. He raised one of his hands and lightly knocked on the wood, unsure, and perhaps a little scared. "Nikki, can I come in?" He asked. 

No response came. 

Mick knocked again. "Don't make me come in there by force." He said. 

"I don't want you to." Nikki said, his voice muffled, barely audible. 

Well, it was something, at least. "Why not?" Mick rested his forehead against the door, awaiting an answer, no matter how bad it might be. Mick was entirely prepared for the worst outcome possible, which he had to be, when the Crüe was involved. 

"Bec- Because I'm seeing things, _but they're not really there."_ Nikki was whispering, as if divulging sensitive information that couldn't be overheard. "That makes me crazy, doesn't it?" He sounded scared. 

Mick shook his head, even though Nikki couldn't see him. "No, it doesn't make you crazy." He replied. "That's just your brain. It's trying to cope with not having drugs in your system. You're not crazy, Nik. And I would really appreciate if you let me in, because I don't want you to be alone right now." 

"No." Nikki said, suddenly firm. "I don't wanna hurt you." 

There wasn't any use trying to fight the decision that'd already been made, Mick knew, so he instead sat down, resting his back against the door, head tilted toward the ceiling. "Okay." He agreed. 

As Mick had learned, Nikki was like a cat; he didn't trust often, and he didn't trust well, nor consistently. 

"I'll be out here if you need me." Mick said. "Right here." He slowly reached down toward the floor, and slipped his fingers underneath the small partition between the ground and the door. The tile was cold, bitterly so, and Mick nearly withdrew his offering, but he caught himself before his instincts took over. 

It took a long moment, as if in thought, but Nikki's slender, cold fingers entangled around Mick's own. There was something wet, a surprisingly warm liquid that made time seem to slow down, and Mick could feel his breathe catch in his throat at the feeling. "Nik?" He whispered. 

"Sorry." Nikki mumbled. 

The whole situation was a terrible, terrible mess, and Mick fucking hated it. "It's fine." He said, even though it was all a lie. Nothing was fine, in any sense of the word. 

Time passed, but nothing changed. Silence prevailed in the house, punctuated by the ticking of the clock, slow and almost impossible to hear. The only sign of life from Nikki was when Mick shifted his grasp, and could feel the reassuring beat of a pulse against his fingertips. 

That was the only sign that Nikki wasn't already a corpse. 

"I'm sorry, Mick. I'm sorry that I broke our rule." Nikki said. 

Mick could feel the cut, and it was deep, although hardly the worst. This one would scar, though, and Mick always hated that. He hated running his fingers over that pale skin he loved so much, and feeling scars and track marks. It made Mick feel angry, and inferior, and cold. It made him want to grab Nikki and shake him, demanding to know what was wrong. 

But Mick would never do such a thing, and so he would settle for questions that would never be answered. 

"You're not feeling well, Nik." Mick said, rubbing his thumb over Nikki's pulse. "I'm not angry. I just want you to feel better. I want you to be okay." The last part was spoken in desperation. 

"I know." Nikki said, and a moment later, the door unlocked, as if Mick had spoken the secret, holy password. Mick grunted as he rose to his feet, and then he pushed the door open, hearing it creak ominously as he did so. 

The bathroom was bright, and there, surprisingly enough, wasn't a mess. Instead of that, Nikki was now perched on the bathtub. He was holding a wad of paper towels against the cut, and staring at Mick with eyes that were wide in alarm. 

"I don't want to be alone." Nikki suddenly confessed. 

Mick nodded, closing the door and then sitting down again, this time against the bathtub. "And I won't leave you alone." He said, holding his hand out.

As expected, Nikki placed his own within Mick's. 

"Mhm. Not too bad." Mick frowned. "I'll need to wrap it up."

" _Soon."_ Nikki whispered. 

Mick sighed. "Soon." He conceded, but for now, he took of his jacket and pressed it against Nikki's wrist, knowing that it was hardly life-threatening in the slightest, but doing it anyways. 

Nikki nodded, shivering despite the heat. "When this is over, I'll take you somewhere far, far away. Somewhere nice. Like Cancun. Somewhere romantic like that." He sat down onto the ground, resting his head against Mick's shoulder.

"Sounds nice." Mick raised his hand and entangled it in Nikki's thick, tangled hair, dragging it through the strands. "I'll even teach you how to swim." 

"You can swim?" Nikki sounded skeptical, holding his arm close to his chest. 

"Yeah. It - ah - helps with my back." Mick glanced up at the ceiling. 

Nikki shivered again. "Dream on, huh?" He laughed bitterly. "I'll never know how to swim. I'll just fucking die; dead by morning." He was spiraling again, hopeful and bitter in a split second, back and forth. 

"Don't think like that." Mick said firmly. "It's just the withdrawal. You'll be okay in a few days. I'm right here with you. Think about Cancun. Think about me. You'll be here in the morning, think about that. Think about Tommy and Vince. Think about how goddamn proud I am of you for making it this far." 

A moment passed. "You'll teach me how to swim?" Nikki whispered. 

"Yes." Mick replied. "I'll do anything for you." 

It was a promise. 


End file.
